


Shelter In Place

by LinksLipsSinkShips



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Angst, COVID-19, Divorce, M/M, Quarantine, Separation, kind of, locked in a room together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinksLipsSinkShips/pseuds/LinksLipsSinkShips
Summary: With the Covid-19 pandemic causing massive illness in Los Angeles, the governor requires the entire state to shelter-in-place for 30 days. The only problem? Link was preparing to move out. Now they're stuck together for a month, having to work through the unresolved failings in their marriage.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 48
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

Link stood in the middle of the room, turning slowly as he looked at the boxes around him. He stared at the walls and at the cardboard, all taped and labeled neatly. Sighing, he grabbed a folding chair from the closet, listening to it clang as he unfolded it and placed it in the middle of the room, sitting down and scrolling through his phone.

This was not how anything was supposed to happen.

He was supposed to be gone by now.

And, because of one major problem, he was stuck here for the foreseeable future, or at least the next thirty days.

Rhett leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. “You know, you don’t have to lock yourself in this room.”

“Door’s not locked. As evidenced by you leaning against it,” Link said, not looking up from his phone.

“I’m just saying, you have free reign of the house. You don’t have to isolate in this tiny room. You can’t possibly want to spend thirty days confined to these four walls.”

Link looked up at him, blinking. “I figured staying in this room and these four walls beat us biting each other’s heads off. After all, if I didn’t intend to survive the next thirty days, I’d be taking my chances on the outside.”

“You’re young and healthy. Being on the outside wouldn’t hurt you. Just other people,” Rhett added.

Link rolled his eyes at that. Of course. Rhett had to be right about everything. That was the entire problem. Or, most of the problem anyway. “Yeah. I know. I was— just forget it.” Link turned back to his phone, snorting at the headline.

“What?”

Link looked up at him, glaring. Honestly, what Link was reading was none of Rhett’s business, but this was relevant, and amusing, so he said “apparently after China’s quarantine ended, 88 couples immediately went and file for divorce.” He turned back and skimmed the article. “It doesn’t say anything about couples who are already divorced being stuck in quarantine for 30 days, though. I’m assuming that’s probably in the unintended death toll.”

“Well, then I guess I’ll go ahead and post a note on the front door. ‘If I’m dead at the end of this, the virus didn’t kill me,’” Rhett joked. “I’ll be in the living room if you change your mind about staying in here. The house is still half-yours, Link. Use it.”

Link nodded, trying to ice Rhett out. Things weren’t that easy, though. How was he going to get through the next thirty days with his ex-husband, trapped in a single house with limited access to the outside world? The hurt that this house held, the number of fights the walls had witnessed, the number of moments where Link wondered if _this_ fight was going to be the last one because one of them would eventually say something they couldn’t unsay... and then the fact that that _had_ happened. They’d probably waited too long to end their marriage, holding on to their young-love story, the romance everybody figured would last forever. They’d defied so many odds to get there and to watch it crumble had been hard. Neither of them had been willing to give up easily.

But deciding to divorce made sense. Barriers of pillows in their single bedroom became the norm, both of them too stubborn and cheap to buy a second bed. And now, Link was sitting in a metal folding chair in a spare bedroom. Because of what? Because the quarantine had halted his apartment search efforts?

Link sighed, sinking further into the chair. If he uncovered the box labeled “bedding” situated at the bottom of a stack of boxes, then maybe he could even take a nap in the uncomfortable seat.

* * *

Rhett stood in the kitchen, swinging open the refrigerator door. He’d stocked up, of course. Not just on fresh goods because that was necessary, and a number of canned and bagged beans because they were high in protein and delicious, but also on buckets upon buckets of apocalypse meals. Things weren’t that bad yet, though. There was no need to tap into the buckets shilled by TV personalities asking to give for Jesus or the packaged MREs he’d bought at a military surplus store. No, he was reaching for the carton of milk and some cereal. He was hungry, and they hadn’t reached critical points yet where prepper decisions needed to be held to the highest authority.

He grabbed a mixing bowl, then thought better of it. Were he living alone, he’d be saying ‘screw portion sizes, I’m indulging.’ All of his preparation and his tendencies to make sure he had a plan went out the window when, in the first hour of the possible apocalypse, he was hungry. As a chronic stress-eater, eating his entire stock of quarantine food within a day or two was entirely within the realm of possible. But he couldn’t be selfish. He’d been accused of that already. So, he put the over-sized glass bowl back and reached for something smaller, pouring a serving — or rather, three servings, by box standards — into the bowl and drowning it in milk, sitting down at their kitchen table to eat. He’d tried to get Link to come out. He’d done his duty as his now-ex husband, letting Link know that the house was still open to him.

Why a quarantine would change that, Rhett wasn’t sure. Link had free reign of the house. In many ways, the house was still theirs, just as it had been for the past ten years. “Whatever,” Rhett muttered into his bowl. Link was going to do what he wanted to do, and Rhett was going to kick himself for this being how things ended up.

* * *

_Link raced down the hill, narrowly dodging a tree trunk. He ran to the edge of the river, stripping down into his boxers, hesitating, and then stripping those off too. They were friends. Best friends. There were no secrets between them. Maybe it would have been different if one of them had been born a girl, and then stripping down would have been totally off-limits. But as it were, they were both guys, and it wasn’t like Rhett knew Link looked at him like_ that. _Either way, he was in the water before Rhett had caught up. “How are you this slow, daddy long legs?” Link yelled._

_“I’m tired! I played almost all of that game, man!” he called back, hitting the water right after Link._

_Not that Link could hear the answer. He was well under the water. Pushing his feet off of the silty bottom of the river, he managed up to the top of it, bursting through the surface of the water and catching his breath. “It’s cold.” He threw himself on the banks, laying down on the grass as the sun shone overhead. “Why’d we decide to swim today?”_

_Rhett splashed up out of the water too. “What?”_

_“Why’d we decide to swim when it’s cold?” Link repeated, covering himself with his hands._

_“Because it’s a good way to kill time,” Rhett answered. “And because I’ve been waiting all winter to get to do this with you, man.” Rhett settled himself next to Link on the shore, both of them naked and looking up at the sun._

_“Why?”_

_“Because we always do this in the spring.”_

_“I know, but... why?” Link asked._

_“Because I like to be alone with you.”_

_Link’s heart fluttered a little bit, unsure of what Rhett meant by that. He didn’t want to press his luck by asking why again, so he didn’t, mouth shut, looking up at the sky._

_“Are you going to ask me why?” Rhett asked, turning and propping himself up on one elbow, watching Link’s face._

_“No,” Link said to be contrary, but the curiosity was killing him anyway. “Okay, fine. Why?”_

_Rhett leaned in, brushing his lips against Link’s._

_“Oh.”_

* * *

Sitting there was getting exhausting. Six hours into thirty days, and Link was unwilling to give in quite yet. He pulled out a pillow and a blanket from the box marked bedding. He was hungry, but he was also too stubborn to leave the room, so he spread a blanket on the ground and placed a pillow at the top of it, tugging a second blanket over him. Tears in his eyes, he rolled over, facing the wall, and after a few minutes, he was asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Link tossed and turned for hours. Until a week ago, they’d shared a marital bed. In the past week, he’d slept in a bed in the spare room. But Link Neal had chosen the worst possible time to move most of his items into a storage unit. He had figured he wouldn’t need them while staying in a hotel, and a hotel would have been the perfect option, had they not closed, banning not just travelers, but Link, who had been slated to move in for the few days before his new apartment became available. Now, he’d heard the apartment wouldn’t be vacant due to the shelter in place, and all of those worries and struggles weighed down on him. Perhaps they wouldn’t have, perhaps he could have slept through them, but the uncomfortable floor made that impossible.

Rhett knocked on the open door, and Link, staring right at the door when he did, couldn’t even pretend he was asleep. “I brought you coffee.”

“I didn’t realize you still had coffee,” Link answered carefully. Rhett had made the switch to tea years before, and with Link having packed all of the coffee into one of his many boxes, he figured the pantry was clear of it.

“You missed a box.” Rhett set the mug down on the floor, standing in the doorway. “You aren’t seriously going to spend at least 29 more days in here, are you?”

Link sat up, shrugging. “I don’t know. Can you think of something better to do with my time? I already packed, so it’s not like I can spend time doing that. I can work from home in here.” He nodded toward his laptop. “Everything I need is in this room.” The room even had bathroom access. The only thing missing was food, and apparently Rhett had taken it upon himself to provide Link with coffee, so maybe that wasn’t even a concern.

“I don’t know, man. Suit yourself. I just wanted you to know you don’t _have_ to be in here.”

Link stood up, walking over and bending down to accept the coffee. He sniffed it first. “Well, thanks. I’ll take that into consideration.” He took a sip. “At least you passed on the almond creamer. I might’ve thought this was poisoned.” He smirked, draining the cup and setting it down on the floor where it had been.

“I don’t hate you, Link. I wouldn’t kill you.”

“I know,” Link said. “It was a joke. Landed poorly.” Jokes hadn’t been the same. Maybe because when you’re divorcing after that many years apart, they _can’t_ land the same. Things carried a different weight when the love behind them was gone, but they carried an even stranger weight when the love was still there, but the pain was pushing it away. Link felt acutely aware of that as he looked in Rhett’s eyes. “Thank you for the coffee. Seriously. No jokes. Just... thanks.”

“Anytime. If you need anything, I’ll just be... y’know. In the living room. Like I said yesterday.”

“Thanks.”

Link wasn’t sure what else to say but thanks on repeat. After decades of talking non-stop, words didn’t work anymore.

* * *

Rhett stood in the hallway, empty mug in his hand. He looked at the pictures on the wall, straightening one with his hands. Eventually, he’d need to take the photographs down. So far, he hadn’t had the heart to. There were too many memories on the walls, too many moments shared. Wedding photos, of course, but also photos of their pets, photos of them together, photos of them starting their company.

All of that seemed to be gone, done now. They were well on their way to ending all of that. Their business loose ends were being tied up, the last of their shared creations going live as if nothing was in turmoil behind the scenes. His heart, though, was a different story. Shattered, he thought, was the best way to describe it. Funny, how the glass on old pictures could be fine, if not crooked, but his heart, a beating organ, could feel like it was broken glass.

Still, he had to move on. He sat down on the couch, as promised, exactly where Link would expect him to be, and pulled out his phone, pulling up the chat with a guy he’d met online the week before. The whole thing had been shallow small talk, which grated on him. When he and Link talked, everything was big talk. They’d known each other so long small talk was unnecessary. Asking “how was your day?” seemed irrelevant when they spent all day together, and when they could read each other’s faces and thoughts and know without asking anyway. Rhett had forgotten the art of small talk too easily.

Maybe that had been the problem.

Maybe they hadn’t taken time for the small talk, hadn’t taken time to check in because they assumed they knew. Then all too late, the problems had arisen, miscommunications bubbling stronger. They knew each other, and Rhett had figured that meant they also knew how to press each other’s buttons more, to offend each other more easily. Maybe that hadn’t been the issue at all, he thought. Maybe instead, the issue had been that they no longer took time to care.

That was irrelevant now.

The marriage was over, and Rhett couldn’t change that. Not even a mandatory quarantine could, not when Link refused to leave a single bedroom in the house.

Instead, he settled in to text.

**RMcL96: Hey. How are you handling the craziness?**

**DogDad14: Eh, I’ve been better. Kind of stressful. You holding up ok?**

**RMcL96: Somewhat. Not used to being home this long...**

* * *

_Everyone with the last names starting with A approached the stage, walking across it as their names were called. Rhett slipped his hand backward, feeling fingertips graze his, lingering a beat too long as they took the paper sandwiched between two of his fingers, replacing it with a similar one. He smiled, feeling the sun beating down on his face, an unseasonably warm day heating him._

_We really should have gone naked underneath, he thought, opening the paper to read whatever Link had written to him. The first words on the page forced him to stifle a laugh: “We really should have gone naked underneath these.” Of course they’d have the same thought. Rhett wasn’t sure which one of them had the bright idea to stuff notepads into their socks, the little pads of paper no more than a couple of inches wide by a couple of inches tall, but it had made graduation arguably more interesting. Rhett, though, had chosen a pad with a spiral on top, and the metal rings dug into his leg the whole time. That was worth it, to hear the giggles coming from behind him, Link reading his note about the principal’s toupee and whether or not he had a merkin to match._

_They passed notes back and forth, every time Link’s fingers lingering a little bit too long on his, their secret kept between them. Rhett wasn’t sure their families would understand. He wasn’t sure their friend would. But they understood, and so they’d kept their relationship secret. Three years, one month, and seventeen days, they’d belonged to each other and nobody else. Except really, they had since first grade, but Rhett figured that was entirely a different kind of belonging._

_Rhett felt the person beside him stand up, and that was his cue to go. He turned, smiling at Link, who beamed back with a wide grin and a big thumbs up. With Link’s back to the crowd, he could mouth “I love you,” without Rhett’s parents capturing it on the hand-held camcorder. Rhett couldn’t say the words back, but Link knew. Link always knew._

* * *

**DogDad14: Can’t imagine being stuck at home with my ex**

**DogDad14: I don’t envy you**

**RMcL96: So far he’s been in one room. Haven’t really had to deal with him.**

**DogDad14: That’s good at least**

Rhett caught a glimpse of Link out of the corner of his eye. “Hey.”

“Hey, um. I’m just getting some Pop Tarts and then I’ll be out of your hair.” Link stood there, arms crossed over his chest.

Rhett sighed, nodding. “Okay. If you want the TV, I can always go in the bedroom.” Clearly, Link didn’t want to be in the same room as him, let alone within six feet.

**RMcL96: Yeah. It’s for the best.**


	3. Chapter 3

Standing in the living room, almost at the hallway, Link could see the chat on Rhett’s screen. _Figures,_ he thinks. Of course Rhett would move on at the first opportunity. Rhett had never been great at being alone. As tough as he could be, as much as he’d say “if anything ever happened where we weren’t together, I’d go full-on nomad and spend a year in the woods.”

Link knew that wasn’t realistic. Rhett loved attracting attention, even as shy as he was. So, Link wasn’t surprised. But seeing the fact that he was already moving forward stung. How could Rhett move on so quickly when he was still staying in the spare bedroom? Link didn’t know. And he wasn’t going to ask. Why would he? What Rhett did wasn’t his business. As Link walked down the hall, he glanced up at the wall, at the pictures still framed there. Looking at them hurt. Rhett moving on hurt. And Link wasn’t about to move on with him, or without him, so he sulked to the room he’d claimed and stared at the wall.

He pulled out his laptop, and every single thing he wanted to say felt pointless. He couldn’t write. Not the novel he’d started to try to establish himself as a brand outside of Rhett, not the video content he’d been brainstorming for himself to take over once GMM ended, nothing. He felt pathetic. None of their shared projects were going to work any longer, but any solo ones felt empty. The jokes he’d bounce off of Rhett to see if they’d land right, he was on his own for. The parts of the projects that didn’t mesh well with his brain, the things he’d hand off to Rhett to tackle, only reminded him of how empty creating without him felt.

They were two halves of a greater whole. Sometimes, Link felt they shared a creative brain. Their projects worked because Rhett filled the holes in Link’s creativity and vice versa. Where Link had great ideas for a novel outline, Rhett was better at fleshing out those ideas. Where Link could make a situation awkward, Rhett could polish it. Without the other half of himself, the other creator, Link knew his projects would lack the magic they’d have if they otherwise worked together.

But he couldn’t say that. He and Rhett no longer had a shared creative enterprise, and Link had to move on. Instead, he found himself wondering, if things with the man Rhett was talking to worked out, would he start creating with him? Fill the hole Link left in his projects with someone new? The thought hurt. Link forced himself to think that Rhett would find another way to create solo, ways where Link never could have fit in the first place. Maybe, he thought, Rhett would start some kind of woodworking channel, or maybe he’d go down the conspiracy rabbit hole, Shane Dawson style.

The more Link considered that, the more he had to wonder: staring down a life of creation without Rhett by his side, what was his solo thrill?

The most infuriating part of the entire situation for Link was the thought that Rhett had other things he could thrive at... and he didn’t.

* * *

Rhett paced the living room. There was something wholly unfulfilling about talking to DogDad. Not that DogDad was bad to talk to, just... DogDad wasn’t who he _wanted_ to talk to. He frowned and walked toward the kitchen, swinging the door open. A few minutes later, he closed it. Food wasn’t satisfying. Nothing was.

Eventually he stalked back to the room Link was in, lifting his hand to knock at the door, but he convinced himself not to. Link didn’t want to see him. He didn’t want to talk to him. And Rhett was realizing that, with so many days to go in this mandatory lock down, just how isolated he was going to be. He felt his phone vibrate with another message, probably from DogDad, and as much as he needed the company, the company felt hollow. This time, he ignored it, sinking down onto the couch and flipping channels to a nature documentary. Even that didn’t give him what he needed.

Was he destined to be unhappy after the shutdown order was lifted? Or was this just his lot right now, because Link was right there on the other side of a door, within reach but somehow still untouchable? Rhett couldn’t stop debating his feelings. They’d ended their relationship for a reason, ended their creative partnership and their marriage because they simply didn’t fit together anymore. They were biting each other’s heads off more often than not, and he knew from Stevie that they were making the crew’s life unbearable too. Even before they started planning on how to close the company, who could be moved to Smosh or stay on in a post-Mythical Kitchen sort of show, people had started dropping like flies just to get away from their arguing, putting in notice to quit and move to other shows. In the past month alone, they’d lost two people to Watcher and another four to the dreaded Buzzfeed. Their personal lives, which had always been so deeply entwined in their work lives, had now bled over into pain for the rest of their staff to the point they wouldn’t have them anymore if they decided to stay open.

Their broken relationship had hurt so many people. He was thankful they didn’t have kids, or they would be hurting far more. He felt a pang of guilt. He’d pushed too far maybe, but so had Link. Maybe they were just destined to be broken. After an hour of trying to get out of his head, to focus on the documentary, Rhett drifted off into a fitful nap.

* * *

_“Can you freakin’ believe it?” Link beamed, turning in place as he looked at the exposed brick walls. “This is perfect.”_

_The building was perfect, too. Plenty of space for their employees, their company that was growing at an insane pace. Rhett smiled. This was everything they had ever dreamed of, coming to life in front of their eyes. “We could easily hire on another 20 or 30 people here, and I heard that the company next door is considering leaving that space... all we’d have to do is be in the right place to snatch it up and we could expand.” Their business was growing, and Rhett knew that realistically, they’d need more space soon._

_But Link was focused on this room. “Look at the loft!” He pointed up there. “We could make it sort of a private space, some big recliners or something.”_

_“We could get a bed,” Rhett quirked a brow._

_Link laughed, swatting at him playfully. “Come on, we don’t need any more excuses than we already have to get it on here at the office. And we’ve already got a bathroom. And a couch. And those recliners I mentioned would work just fine.”_

_Rhett relented. “Okay, okay, we’ve got a lot of places we can let some steam off,” he agreed, hands up in surrender. “So how are we going to decorate then?” The space left plenty of room for personal touches, plenty of opportunities to truly make this their own. “I want some wood in here.”_

_“We just talked about that, baby. You’ll be getting wood, all day every day if you want it.” Link smacked his ass gently, giving it a squeeze after._

_“You know what I mean.”_

_“I know, I know.” Link looked around and, on the wall opposite a nice big window, he lifted his hands, framing a picture with them that wasn’t there yet. “Lionel. Lionel has to go right there.”_

_Rhett nodded in agreement. “Yeah. That’s a good place. And then, uh... over there. The records. We could do that display like you’ve been eyeing, so we can listen to them too?” Eventually, this place would have personal touches all over. For now, though? The space was a blank canvas, which was exactly what they needed._

_Link smiled. “I love it. For now, uh... maybe we should just test out the acoustics in here? If you know what I mean?”_

_Rhett knew exactly what he meant, wrapping his arms around Link’s waist and grabbing his ass as he kissed him, lips moving from Link’s lips to his jaw and down to his neck. “Yeah. Let’s see if there’s an echo.”_

* * *

Link walked out of the room, determined not to confront Rhett about his chat buddy. After all, he was essentially single now, even if their divorce wasn’t final. He had every right to start talking to someone new, even if that stung. But Link worried the words would come out of his mouth anyway, worried he’d slip on his way to get a snack.

Instead, he found Rhett lying on the couch, sleeping hard. Thank goodness, there would be no temptation to make a snide comment or a snippy remark. Link picked up the blanket off of the back of the couch and draped it over Rhett. The fabric didn’t cover his feet, but hardly any blankets ever did.


	4. Failure to Blend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: minor jokes about family homophobia and genital mutilation in this chapter. No actual mutilation occurs.

They could only avoid each other for so long, Rhett thought. He’d been alone for 4 days, seeing Link pop out to grab food and coffee, then slip back into the spare room. How he wasn’t losing his mind, Rhett didn’t know. After a while, he walked to the spare bedroom door, lifted his hand, and knocked. This was getting absolutely ridiculous.

“Link?”

The door opened, Link rubbing his eyes. Oh, so he’d been sleeping through it. That explained a lot of the silence. “Yeah?”

“If you’re getting stir crazy in here and don’t want to hang out with me, we can set some hours or something? Schedule some time where I’ll go in our, uh, my room and you go out in the rest of the house? Get out of this room for a little bit?”

“Nah, I’m good.” He looked away.

“Really?” Rhett asked “You don’t want to come out of here?”

Link bit his lip and Rhett could tell he was holding back on something, that he wanted to say something and wasn’t, which... why? What was there to leave out now? “I’m fine in here. Just... holed up working.”

“Working?” Rhett knew that their work was separate now. They’d filmed the rest, tied up the loose ends, finished everything they could. If Link was working, it meant that he was working on something new, something without Rhett, and Rhett was dying to know what. What was Link doing without him? And would it be better than the things Rhett was trying to do alone? Probably. Link had a work ethic and a creative spirit that Rhett couldn’t match. Without Link, projects felt hollow. He’d tried. So, he asked. “Working on what?”

“I started a novel. I’ve been outlining it, so then it’s just fleshing it out from there, right?” Link mostly outlined Bleak Creek. He hadn’t done much more than that, hadn’t had a ton of involvement in the final story. Sure, he’d had his hands in the process every step of the way, with Rhett’s part of the process and even Lance’s. But the outlining, that was his forte, so Rhett understood the hesitation there.

“Wow. I’m... I’m excited to read it.”

“Have to see if someone even wants to buy it first.” Without the Rhett and Link brand attached, Rhett knew it would be a little harder, but this was still Link Neal, and Link Neal was still a bestselling author.

“They’ll want it,” Rhett said. “You’re a bestselling author.” He smiled sadly, turning away, then he turned back. “If you want some extra eyes on it, I’d be happy to give feedback. Maybe I could even get you to take a peek at mine.”

Link nodded. “I’ll let you know. Thanks. I’ll probably be out for coffee later.”

“Okay,” Rhett said. Link’s non-committal tone made it clear he wouldn’t be asking for eyes on his outline. Of course. Why would you even want your ex to look? Rhett felt stupid for asking him. “See you later, then. If I’m not out there,” I’m napping.”

* * *

Link snorted at the implication Rhett would be napping as soon as the door shut between them. Napping? “More like jacking off to pictures of your new boyfriend.” He rolled his eyes. No, he wasn’t jealous. Not at all.

He paced the room, considering his options, and then realized computer outlining wasn’t working for him, so he paced again, pulling out his phone and ordering index cards, markers, highlighters, a notebook... anything he might need to outline it by hand. At the last second, he added on some snacks and a pack of instant coffee. The less he left the room, the better. Gave Rhett more time to talk to his new beau, and gave Link time to... time to... what? Work on his novel? He snorted again.

The right thing to do would have been to go out, tell Rhett he’s expecting a delivery. An equally okay option, Link decided, would be to let the delivery arrive, and as soon as he got the notification, go get it and come back in, just as he’d slipped out for coffee or food or whatever else. Instead, he took what he knew was the cowardly route: texting Rhett.

Link: I have a delivery coming in about 2 hours.

Link: Nothing special. Just snacks and writing supplies.

Link: When it comes, I’m going to come out and get it, or you can just put it next to my door. Whatever’s easiest for you.

Dots popped up on his screen as Rhett started to reply. They disappeared. Then they appeared again. Finally, they went away and he could hear Rhett yell, “Just come out and get them, man.” Yeah. No sense in making it awkward, Link figured. None at all.

He paced again, walking through the room and tidying it up. He gathered trash from snacks he’d finished, washed half-empty coffee mugs in the bathroom sink. This was nothing like his typical OCD dishwasher loading, his regular routine where everything was perfect and just _so_. No, this was... new for Link. Depression Link? Isolation Link? He didn’t know. This wasn’t the Link that Link knew, the Link he usually felt like. But he couldn’t dwell on what that meant for him. He just had to exist and keep trying.

So, Link focused. He got things done. Not the usual way, but some kind of way, and after cleaning up, he felt better. Well enough to write? No, but it was nice not living in a room full of his own clutter and crap. The boxes still lined the walls, ones he’d packed and shoved in there to move. He looked at them. For the next 20 days, maybe longer if the lockdown was extended, he’d have to be in this room. He sighed, and with a little bit of hesitation, he started to unpack.

* * *

_“So... what do we do with this?” Rhett held up the blender his aunt had given them for their wedding._

_“Uh... put it in the sell pile? I don’t really know why we’d need it.” Rhett had already invested in an overpriced, all-the-bells-and-whistles blender weeks before._

_“Did we even register for that?”_

_Link shook his head. “Nope.” He was pretty sure they’d intentionally not put a blender on the registry because of Rhett’s extravagant purchase, but somehow they’d ended up with a blender. “You think she’s going to notice if we sell it?”_

_“Nah. When’s the last time my aunt came over?”_

_Link laughed. True. The next time they’d see her pop up would probably be at a baby shower. It used to be that they’d see her every weekend at church, but since the Great Church Split of 1994 and Rhett and Link’s subsequent exit when people found out they were more than friends, which didn’t fit the Good Baptist Ideal, they stopped seeing her on Sundays. She’d also slowly stopped visiting. But she’d still sent a gift, and that was something, even if they couldn’t use it. “Maybe it’s a message. ‘Not going to be with a woman? Just insert yourself directly into—’”_

_Rhett cackled. “Yeah, that’s probably it. ‘My nephew? A gay?! Better buy him a blender.’”_

_“I mean, she probably thought a food processor was too gay,” Link quipped back._

_“Yeah? Do appliances have sexualities?”_

_“No, but maybe to her they do,” Link said, studying the box. “Look. The blender shows a fruit smoothie. Check out this packaging.” A banana, clearly being inserted through the top._

_“Damn, maybe it really_ is _a message.” Rhett shook his head. “What about the toaster? Keep it or sell it?”_

_“It’s a 4-slice? Damn. Keep that one. We’ll ditch the 2-slice one.” He smiled at Rhett._

_“I was just thinking the same thing,” Rhett said. They were always in sync._

* * *

Texts from across the house? Maybe they were more out-of-sync than Rhett thought. He’d told him he could come out, and Link had only doubled down on staying in the room. Rhett sighed. There was something irrevocably broken, and he wasn’t entirely sure how they’d gotten here. Or, he was, but he wasn’t sure how to get out of here. Could Link ever trust him with a creative endeavor again? Could he trust Link? He didn’t know.

The doorbell rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. Link’s delivery. He waited until he could see the driver almost to his truck, then opened the door. “Thanks!” He called, giving a small wave as he picked up the items in front of the door. He considered for several seconds, thinking about taking it back to Link, but as he held them, turning, Link stood right in front of him.

“Thanks,” Link said quietly.

“I, uh. Didn’t want them to sit outside and risk them getting stolen.”

“Thanks,” Link repeated, with Rhett holding the sacks out to him.

“Do you need anything? Before you go back to your room? Snacks or something?”

Link shrugged. “I ordered a few snacks. I might be out to take the trash out later.”

Their conversation felt disjointed. They were strangers with a lifetime of history. “Okay. See you then, I guess.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“Okay. Maybe.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have a million unfinished fics, and also this is not meant to make light of covid-19 or any serious concerns and fears happening right now, but I have felt an unreasonable amount of anxiety around the whole situation, and this felt like a good therapeutic exercise. <3


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